Reminiscence
by Queen Riza
Summary: Hermione doesn't talk to you anymore.


Disclaimer: Everything you recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling. Except for _Annabel Lee_, which belongs to Edgar Allan Poe. Everything else is mine. Bwahaha.

()()()()()

_Hermione doesn't talk to you anymore._

But you still remember the day you met her.

How could you forget?

It was the first day of nursery school. You had long since grown bored of playing House with the other girls and the boys wouldn't let you join them in their game of football.

"No girls allowed,"they had sneered.

_Stupid boys._

You had contented yourself with kicking dirt around in the sandbox when you noticed a solitary figure in its opposite corner, cross legged and drawing odd looking symbols in the sand. You had walked up to her, introduced yourself, and looked at her expectantly.

She had looked up, smiling, eyes twinkling, "I can write," she said proudly and pointed to the symbols on the ground. You looked in awe at the shaky _A…B…C… _It was only three letters, but it was extremely impressive to you. To be able to _write_ required knowledge so vast it was almost unthinkable to you. You had stared at the girl in reverence as she chattered on. Her name was Hermione Granger, her parents were dentists (you had squirmed and made a face when you had heard this; you _hated_ the dentist), and she knew the first 5 letters of the alphabet and she hoped that it would be enough because it would be simply _awful_ if everybody else knew more letters than she did.

The teacher had called you in from recess then and Hermione sat next to you during story time.

She would be your best friend forever. You _knew_ it.

()()()()()

_Hermione doesn't talk to you anymore._

You were in fourth grade. It was recess and you and Hermione were having the same argument you did every day.

You wanted to play football with the boys, who had grudgingly accepted a girl playing with them. Hermione, who hated sports ever since the incident with the flying basketballs (you _told _her that it couldn't be her fault, but she still blamed herself), wanted to go to the library.

_What sane person wants to spend recess in the library?_ You had wondered distastefully. But eventually she won the argument and you had found yourself following her into the library. She always won the arguments.

While Hermione excitedly picked up an encyclopedia and started reading (she had read most of the Encyclopedia Britannica; she was on the letter X) you had absentmindedly picked up a poetry anthology, flipping through it until you found a poem that caught your fancy.

_It was many and many a year ago,  
>In a kingdom by the sea,<br>That a maiden there lived whom you may know  
>By the name of Annabel Lee;<br>And this maiden she lived with no other thought  
>Than to love and be loved by me.<em>

The two of you sat in the library's comfy chairs, absorbed in your books, until the harsh ring of the bell brought you back into the world.

()()()()()

_Hermione doesn't talk to you anymore._

"I'm not going to Stonewall next year."

You'll always remember that day.

You had looked up from the copy of Poe's _The Tell Tale Heart_ that you had been reading.

"What?"

Hermione had rocked back and forth in her oversized trainers, biting her lip nervously." I got accepted into another school. It's a really elite boarding school in Scotland. It's a secret school too. I really shouldn't even be telling you this much, but…"

_But you're my best friend, _you had completed in your head. You had so many questions, but the only thing that came out of your mouth was, "But school starts in a week."

She had nodded, "I've gotten all my things. School starts on the first."

Part of you wasn't surprised. Public school never had seemed good enough for the only girl who could write in nursery school. But this was _Hermione_; she couldn't leave you. Then you would be alone.

"I should go now," the other girl had said, turning to leave.

"Wait."

Hermione had looked at you expectantly.

"I love you Hermione. You know, as a friend."

She had laughed. "I love you too. Going to different schools isn't going to change that."

How wrong she was.

()()()()()

_Hermione doesn't talk to you anymore._

It had been months since you had seen Hermione. Your family had gone away for Christmas so that day, the first day of summer was the day you would finally get to see Hermione.

You knocked on the Granger's door and a smiling Mrs. Granger had opened it. She had ushered you inside and upstairs to Hermione's room.

You opened the door to see your old friend. "Hermione-"

"What are you doing here?" the question, so sharp and cold, had surprised you.

"I wanted to see you. Is it a crime to want to see my best friend?"

"Of course not. Today's just not the best time," she glanced around nervously, "You should leave."

"What? Why?" then you noticed what your friend was wearing. They were long, peculiar looking robes. "Hermione, what are you _wearing_?"

"Nothing. Just _leave."_

Hurt, you managed to say, "Fine."

As you turned to leave, something strange caught your eye.

A picture on her mantelpiece of two laughing boys.

The picture was _moving._

Before you had time to comment, Hermione shut the door in your face.

That was the last time you ever saw Hermione Granger.

()()()()()

_Hermione doesn't talk to you anymore._

"LISA MARIE ELTON, NO FOOTBALL IN THE HOUSE!"

"Sorry Mum," Lisa says to you and runs outside with Jasper. You smile at the twins as you watch them through the window kicking the dirty football around in the snow.

"You'll freeze!" you call to them but they pretend not to hear.

You hear the sound of mail falling through the slot and go to collect it. You smile at the various Christmas cards from friends and relatives. You can recognize several members of the college woman's football team you used to play on and numerous distant cousins.

One catches your attention, though.

It's red with a picture of a family of four at the top. The family consists of two children; a bored looking girl and a squirming boy. They both have the same bright red hair as their father, a tall freckle faced man. The only non-redhead is the woman, who you suddenly recognize.

_Merry Christmas from the Weasleys, _it says in a fancy gold script at the bottom, _Ron, Hermione, Rose, and Hugo._

You gasp involuntarily and can feel tears welling up in your eyes.

_Hermione doesn't talk to you anymore._

But she named her little girl after you.


End file.
